Page 9 of Boy of Ruin
She pats my cheek.
I touch her hair.
She kisses my face.
Mom is still crying.
She ends up doing that a lot.
But me and my new sister never do.
I keep her with me, never let her go. I don’t want her to ever cry like Mom.
For a long, long time, I wasn’t able to keep track of her. Protect her. But for the past three weeks, she’s been right here. With me.
And this time? I’m never going to let her fucking go.
“You’re a skinny bitch, you know that?”
I jerk my chin up at Ria’s voice, see her standing in my doorway with her hand planted on her hip, a lock of her dark, curly hair wound around her finger. Pulling down my black T-shirt to cover my belly, I glance once more at the floor-length mirror in my spacious room. Spacious, but nearly empty. A queen bed at my back, gray and black sheets with black curtains blocking out the morning sun, covering my own personal balcony. There’s a walk-in closet on the same wall the mirror is on, and a bathroom adjacent the bed. But this is a new house, not lived in, no clutter. A safe house that Jeremiah bought specifically to keep me hidden.
Protected from all the things I ran from.
I’m grateful for it, but it doesn’t take the ache away.
For my husband. The father of my child.
I run my hand absentmindedly over my low belly, even though the bump is only just starting to appear. Just shy of nineteen weeks and I’m barely showing, but Jeremiah had a midwife come by last week. We listened to the heartbeat—fast and strong—and Jeremiah’s pale green eyes lit up as he snatched up my hand, pressing his mouth to the back of it.
“You ready to be a dad?” the midwife had asked, the wand of the Doppler in one hand, the other on the little machine.
Neither of us bothered to correct her.
I run my fingers through my hair, long enough now that I can do neat tricks like put it up in a ponytail.
I’m ready to cut it off again.
“Shut up,” I mutter to Ria, biting back a smile. “What’re you doing up here so early?” I glance at the alarm clock on my nightstand. It’s not even seven in the morning. Tonight, there’s a party for Nicolas, and I’m thinking of skipping it altogether, sleeping the night away right in here.
Ria folds her arms, leaning against the doorway. She’s dressed in pale pink shorts and a white tank. There’s a smile on her lips, but something else in her golden eyes. She’s found solace with Nicolas here, but I know she’s still being held against her will, even if she’s an accepting prisoner.
Jeremiah is guarding her family, unbeknownst to them, and they think she’s studying abroad for her last semester at Alexandria University before she graduates with a history degree. Little do they know, she’s getting the biggest history lesson of her life by being here, stashed away from the families that have lorded over the city in secret for years.
I swallow down the lump in my throat that comes when I think about him. Lucifer. Even thinking his name makes it hard to breathe.
But we need space.
And I had to leave.
Sometimes in the night, I feel those hands on me again. Hear their whispered threats. Taste the fear coating the inside of my mouth. They would’ve never let me leave Noctem alive.
If it wasn’t for my brothers—and I can’t stop including Jeremiah in that category, as if thinking it will keep me from giving into him, giving him what he wants—I would be dead.
Lucifer might hate me, but I hope he’s at least grateful I’m alive.
Knowing him though, he’d probably rather I be a corpse than here with Jeremiah.
“The birthday boy told me to come keep an eye on you,” Ria says, smirking.
